I Will Never Grow Up

100I will never learn to grow up.

I will always be that little girl with larger than life dreams.

I don’t want to give up on the thought of fairy tales.

I still want to believe that I will fight the demons and win over them.

I still feel that someday, somewhere I will meet my Shrek who will accept me even if I look like an ogre.

I will never learn to grow up, never ever.

I still go crazy over Pokemon and I am not ashamed of it. I still listen to ‘I am Barbie girl.’ even if it’s no more considered cool.

I don’t want to grow up, I fascinate Peter Pan more than batman or any other super hero because he had the courage to go back to childhood even when he had aged in numbers.

I still need my mom like I used to when I was 5.

I will never grow up, I don’t want to.

Udisha M.

About The Author

An Engineer by degree, Digital Marketer by profession and a Blogger by passion, Udisha is an aspiring writer and a published poet. She has contributed on leading Indian and international defence forums. A born foodie, she has a keen interest in contemporary literature and cinema. She’s biased towards humans with intellect. Reach her on udisha0902@gmail.com


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Ikraar – e – Mehfil

Ikraar – e – Mehfil

DIL KI GEHRAI KO KISI NE NAAPNA CHAHA…

TO WO KHUD HI USME DOOBTA,DOOBTA AUR DOOBTA CHALA GAYA…

HOSH-KHABAR NAHI USSEY APNI…      

ikraar-e-mehfil
ikraar – e – mehfil Pic credit : http://news.nster.com/

ZALIM MUJHE JAAN KE KYA PAA SAKEGA…     

MAGAR USKI CHAHAT NE KUCH ARMAAN JAGAYA…

TO HUME LAGA KI SHAYAD WO BHI HAMARA TASAVVUR CHAHTA HAI…

KAHI TO KOI HOGA SHAYAD…

JO APNAEGA USSEY JISE SABNE DAFNA DIYA…

WAQT NHI KISI KE PAAS HAMARI KHAER-KHABAR POOCHHNE KA…

JANE KYU FIR SAB APNE TAJURBE BATATE FIRTE HAIN…

CHAHA HUMNE BHI TAMAM UMRA KISI KO APNA HAAL BATANA…

KOI SUNNE KO RAZI NHI, ISME HAMARI KHATA KYA HAI….?

SARI UMRA TO LAG GAYI SAMAJHNE ME…

PAR AB BHI MEHFIL ME KUCH KEHNA CHAHE TO LAFZ NHI NIKALTE…

APNI TAKDEER SE APNI ZINDAGI NAAPTE HAI HUM…

AE KHUDA TU HI GALAT-SAHI KA EHSAAS KARA DE HUME…. 

— Shakti singh


About the writer: Shakti Singh is an amateur poet from the City of Nawabs, Lucknow. He’s pursuing CS and has a deep interest in poetry and music. His writings reflect the symbiotic nature of languages, Urdu and Hindi of the Awadhi region. Stay with us to read more of his work.


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The way I will remember you

theway3

I will always remember you as an angel,
who walked into my life when all other faces seemed like strangers.
Those large shimmering eyes captivated my soul almost instantaneously.
Don’t get me started coz i can go on praising those eyes for three days continuously.

Nothing can be cuter than your sweet, mischievous smile.
I have always been awe-struck seeing your elegant dressing style.
With that stupefying and bewildering figure,
it was hard for me to maintain my composure.

Your voice and accent complimented each other,
and confidence so high that could make anyone stutter.
You were ambitious and fun loving at the same time.
I remember how soon we became partners in crime

whenever i saw you, you were extending someone your help.
With the most complicated situations, it was you who always tactfully dealt.
You were good to even those who were nasty to you,
You found happiness in smallest of things when most magnificent of things were at service for you.

I still don’t get it how you fell in love with me.
And then you did things for me which no one would have done to set me free.
You played numerous roles in my life,
a friend, my love, a preacher, a teacher and a beautiful wife.

Life couldn’t have been more beautiful without you,
You made my dreams, my imaginations astoundingly come true.
I used to be at seventh heaven when I had you by my side.
You got me from low waist jeans and baggy t-shirts to three piece suits and smart looking ties.
Precisely, you made a man out of a spoilt brat,
You saved me from getting lost in marijuana’s painfully tempting trap.

I never said a word to let you know,
It was you who still understood if I was hurt, sad or hungry for those mouth-watering momos.
It was me who always came first to your head,
Before even thinking bout yourself instead.
You loved me the way no one ever did before.
The sentiments are enormous which I am scared to even bring to the fore.

You were amazing in bed, even better at academics,
Jaw dropping looks disconcerted the paramedics.
You were innocent and naive,
Concomitantly aggressive and brave as warriors and knights.
Your will and might,
made easy the most fierce looking fights.

Your dreams so big, your ego so small,
Thats what made you stand out, thats what made you stand tall.
Your elegance and decency were witnessed at their best,
wherever and whenever my sweet lil child was put to test.
A girl so loving, which she let herself be,
was meant to be out there, so i let her go free.
Like you said the other day: “all the good things come to an end,
but believe me my angel, in my heart, you will always be my silent friend….

                                                                                                                                                               —-Anant Gyan Singh


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जाने क्यों मैं देता हूं शब्द अपनी भावनाओं को

जाने क्यों मैं देता हूं शब्द अपनी भावनाओं को

 

मैं रोक देता हूं उस धार को

जो बहती है बेधड़क.. उन्मुक्त..शब्द नहीं मिलते हर सोच को

फिर शब्द में डालने के लिए मैं सोच बदल देता हूं।मैं मूर्त करना चाहता हूं अपने हर एहसास को

जो सांसों की तरह चलती रहती है

अनवरत.. बिना मेहनत के..बांधने के क्रम मैं रुक जाती है वह धार

जो शायद विषाद की सीमा लांघ

खुशी की तरफ बढ़ जाती

और अपने ख्यालों में डूबा दुखी मैं

शायद खुश भी हो जाता!

लेकिन अब शब्दों के जाल में घिरे मेरे एहसास
दुख का प्रयाय बन के रह गए हैं..

जाने क्यों मैं देता हूं शब्द अपनी भावनाओं को!  

 

 

 

 

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DEVIL IN ME

DEVIL IN ME

My mind insane, all I want is fame,

I am ready to gamble and garble.

Damn those ethics, they can rush to drain.

I conjure to be the next “Kaiser”

From the guy next door to the lone survivor.

Ya I know, I know, it’s a hard nut to crack.

Trust me I’ll have every chance to brag!!

They say “Avarice”is the root of all evils”

I yell “it’s the only root to the top of the hill”

Destination’s what matter,

No matter if it’s your friend or foe you have to kill.

I am a backstabber when it comes to victory,

& voluble enough to create mystery.

I know self-praise is no recommendation,

but it acts as a tool for self-exploration.

Nothing is wrong till the time you don’t regret it,

Life is nothing, just an exhibition of wit.

You can get things done with a strike of fist.

The only better option is wricking the wrist.

I wonder, why be a saint and do what you never want,

Better be a devil, and do things that count.

But you gotto remember, as you do evil, look for like,

Coz you’re not the only one out there to strike.

Never ever blame yourself,

for a simple reason that situations make perceptions.

Never ever curse your destiny,

coz you learn even from deceptions.

It’s not necessary that you win everytime,

But trust me you’ll master the art if you keep on trying.

Atleast, you’ll have something to boast about.

It’s anyways better being a loser, sitting and crying.

My acts are only the repurcussions,

Of the past that I had to bear.

Still I am grateful to the mighty lord,

To execute this plan and flush out all my fears.

A bad man is better than a bad name.

& it becomes easier to strive for fame.

I have that plastic smile on my face,

that’s gonna extricate me from the complications of the game.

The guy with the most selfless intentions,

Proves to be the one,

entangled in the cobweb of frustration,

On stretching the hands in the darker times,

finds nothing but a thousand apprehensions.

It’s not my fault that I find eternal pleasure

in crushing my competitor’s dream into the finest of pieces,

but that’s what happens,

when the DEVIL in me unleashes.

                                                                         –Anant Gyan Singh

 

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भारत भूमी प्यारी

गगन चूमता है.

नीचे चरणों तले पड़ा,
नित सिन्धु झूमता है.

झरने अनेक झरते,
जिसकी पहाडियों में,
चिड़िया चहकती रहती,
जहाँ मस्त झाड़ियो से.

भाषा अनेक, जाती अनेक,
रहे जहाँ मिल-जुल कर एक,
बसे जहाँ एकता हमारी,
वो है भारत भूमी प्यारी.

— Vishal 

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अच्छा लगता है..

अच्छा लगता है..

ये शाम न जाए, कभी रात ना हो         
उदासी-अंद्धेरे की बरसात ना हो
हाँ ले चल मुझे कहीं साथ अपने,
जहाँ बंदिशों की कोई बात ना हो

वो रोना, वो गाना, सताना, मानना,
करें जब जो चाहें,जो दिल ने ठाना,
बहें धार में हम अपने ही दिल के,
मिले हमको वो जो अच्छा लगता है..

 ना दुनिया है ज़ालिम ना लोग दीवाने
ना लब किसी के पुराने फ़साने
क्या आगे निकलने की होड़ बुरी है?
क्या रह जाएँ यहीं पे, नया कुछ ना जानें?

वो बाते पुरानी निकलती नहीं है
मगर उन बातों की गलती नहीं है
इन बातो को सीने से लगा के, कहीं  डूब जाना ही सच्चा लगता है

कहाँ थी ख्यालों की चादर ये फैली
न सिलवट थे इसमें, न दिखती थी मैली
हकीकत से ही तो था याराना अपना
न दूजे की खद्दर न दूजे की थैली

अब चलते-चलते निकल आये आगे,
जाने कब थे सोये और हम कब थे जागे,
क्या खोया क्या पाया की पर्ची भुलाके बस सो जाना ही अच्छा लगता है

सभी ने कहा कि कयामत भी होगी
कभी किसी रोज़ बग़ावत भी होगी,
निकल आयेंगे परिंदे घरो से,
सबपे खुदा कि इनायत ही होगी,

कि चाहे भी हम ये और सोचे भी हम ये,
न हो फिर भी ये हम कह दे सभी से,
बड़ी बाते छोड़ क्यों ना चुन ले लम्हा इन सब के आगे जो बच्चा लगता है.

— Vishal 

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Daru ki Botal

daru

Mujhe becha gaya,

Mujhe khareeda gaya.

Mera dard khud mujhse na dekha gaya.

Par doston-yaaron,

Tammam rishtedaaron

se jo ishq kar baithi thi main,

apno ko mayusiyon mein doobte mujhse

na dekha gaya.

Taqleef dikhti thi mujhse sabki nazaron mein,

Koi ek muskurata hoga kaii hazaron mein.

Uss muskurahat ko har lab pe sajane ka

irada liye ,

har dard chupa liya kahin kinaron mein.

Har nukkad, har gali, har mandir aur

Mazjid ke kareeb,

thaam liye the guhaar lagate haath, fir wo chahe

ameer ho ya gareeb.

Meri mulakaton mein maine rote ko haste

aur haste ko rote dekha hai.

Bicchde yaaron ko milte, nayi mohabbaton ko khilte dekha hai.

Wo kaun sa mausam tha jo main na thi kareeb?

Mere iraade nek the, koi samjha nai ye mera naseeb.

Aaj main kisi ki latt hun to kisi ka aiyb.

Aaj main wajah hun chahe wo galti ho, jhoot ya fareb.

Bhool gaye wo din jab hataashon ki hitaiyshi bani thi main?

Tumhari dard bhari karahon ki marham bani thi main.

Aaj mujhe bhool kar nayi shuruat karna chahte ho tum.

Jab tumhari nayi zindagi ki kabhi shuruaat bani thi main.

Bas ek hi dua hai tumse,

Mujhe aiyb na bolo, mujhe latt na banana.

Galti, jhooth ya fareb ki wajah mat batana.

Bohot zillat dekhi hai maine,

Bohot khari-khoti suni hai maine,

Ho skae to meri neeyat ko yaad rakhna,

Kabhi mujhe apni maut ki wajah mat banana.

                  —– Anant Gyan Singh

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Dreams

dreams

 Morning 7:00 am

Watching myself in the mirror,

Telling myself go get it this time

coz you’re not a quitter…

Same day later

Psyched up, pumped up, sitting in my hot tub,

Planning it up all in my mind,

answers to the questions thrown this way.

Job interview’s the only hurdle left in my way.

4th chance after 3 mind blowing attempts.

I wished make it my last,

Coz I am still struggling hard to pay my peppercorn rent.

“Penurious” was the word that described me the best.

“Loser”, that’s what was tattooed on my chest.

But I always had a better picture in my my head.

Me taking up a job??? No no no…shit,

Instead for me it’s better be dead.

On the contrary, the people ‘round me,

Forced me to make it conventional.

To hell with my youth,

They worried about my 60’s when I become a pensioner.

Damn…it all needed a deeper thought,

coz it was difficult to see my big dreams rot,

But nothing was working for me anyway,

I realized all this shit was worth a shot.

So, this was it,

I chose my favorite couture.

Took the final shot for an uncertain future.

At the venue…mannn it was huge.

With an annoying hullabaloo.

Was 23rdtime “8 mile” ringing in my ears.

Girls hurling out of cabin almost in tears.

My fucking heart thump was nearly audible all around.

The board was waiting just for me to pound.

And then,

It was my turn,

My hands felt a grievous sensation of burn.

My hand  and butt was soaked in sweat.

coz I was trying for something that was hard to get.

20 minutes passed and I was finally out.

Out of that dreadful cabin.

The experience was horrendous.

Again I started to calculate all my savings.

The result was to be out in a moment.

Negative emotions were for sure dominant.

Was thinking about the unpaid bills, interest on loans and

The burning stick that kills.

Till I heard my name.

”you just don’t need to humiliate people who didn’t get through”

That’s what first came to my mind.

Eyes looking everywhere to find.

People clapping all around,

and me standing between them astound.

I made it.

Don’t ask me how.

May be they sympathized with my destitute looking face.

Doesn’t matter.

What actually matters is that I eventually won the race.

Now bills all paid, loans all cleared.

Waiting for my 60’s to become a pensioner.

Watching what I was afraid of.

Exactly as I thought.

I saw all my big dreams rot.

I saw all my big dreams rot.

                                                                       —– Anant Gyan Singh

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Rolling Dice

dice 

Young guns not gonna take this passivity anymore,

We gotta make some points here at this crucial juncture.

Agree or not.

I don’t give a fuck.

Coz it’s the hypocrisy that proves you a schmuck.

Like a rolling dice,

we gotta whole different sides,

Just throw us a few logics,

and we will have our new reasons to fight.

Coz there’s no universal path of righteousness.

With all those rights and wrongs,

comes respective reasons along,

and a sense of selflessness.

Like I call myself an atheist,

Inclined to lead a life of a priest,

Reason being..he never showed up

to let me know,

“Is he really there or is he been cooked up?”

I called him a thug, a jerk and a murderer.

In the first place

Why should I call him anything at all.

Now,

We talk about violence, chaos and treachery,

when we’re high smoking a joint,

but that’s not even a point.

There are times when,

we change channels as we find something gruesome,

when the nature’s wrath gives us a little goosebumps.

Why sometimes watching a destitute get our eyes wet?

Why sometimes watching a movie get our palms soaked in sweat?

Why do we even bother to help someone,

when all we care about in our ganja gun.

We love banging bitches, and you’ll agree for sure.

Some do it for pleasure,

some just to keep a score.

I called them “bitches”, with no hesitation,

I am gentleman when it comes to women,

and I am the one who turns them into bitches,

inspite of them being such an exquisite creation.

One thing they surely deserve is respect,

but then I expect all of them to be perfect.

So, my point is, we’re not a coin having just two sides.

Instead we have six of them,

just like a rolling dice.

Don’t know which side gonna face up,

But that’s not  a problem coz

We’re gonna prove it right.

                                                                                              —-Anant Gyan Singh

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Ganja Justifi3d

 weed1

Standing by the shore,

Thinking here to fore.

My girl dipped in vanillin,

Oh she was a fuckin whore.

My girl, my friend and my own bed,

Colt’s creation in my hands, both of them shot dead.

On stake was my pride,

And that’s why honey my ganja’s justifi3d.

*

I always knew what I was good at,

For them I was just a spoilt brat.

My dad misunderstood my goals,

mixed up the roles.

Now I burn my ass as an accountant.

For him it’s merely a substitute.

I feel my girl is a gigolo and I am a prostitute.

All my life I cried and lied,

And that’s why honey my ganja’s justifi3d.

*

I was terribly weak,

more precisely a freak.

I was scared,

But none of the motherfuckers really cared.

And now I’m all on my own,

Beard and bushes all grown,

Still afraid of the fight called life,

And that’s why honey my ganja’s justifi3d.

*

Things I could see with my eyes closed,

things that we all dread the most.

Feel someone staring real close,

when you know, there is no one home.

But now I play the host.

Don’t give a shit if it’s devil or ghost.

I smelled the shit and I’m glad I tried,

And that’s why honey my ganja’s justifi3d.

                                                                                                    —-Anant Gyan Singh

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Upside Down

down

Is it some kind of searing pain?

Coz I feel numb..

Numb at heart, mind & soul.

My thoughts have turned so elusive & cold.

I guess life requires further elucidation.

After all, it’s God’s one of the most exquisite creation.

But, he won’t explain

Coz nothing is logically framed.

I try to see things upside down,

But the world still seems the same.

I see people die,

I see people live like they’re dead.

Ask them where is their God.

I bet they won’t even need a second thought.

Men eating men,

That’s what petrifies me.

Is that the gospel truth?

Coz that’s what brutally justifies me.

I am scared of what I do,

And I know you’re one in the queue.

Things have changed.

Cries of pain sound lyrical.

Chirp and laughter seem strange.

Caring expressions feel rhetorical.

Meaning of love is completely re-arranged.

Where was God at the sudden demise of my inner self?

It was sickening.

Blame goes to the devil.

Why weren’t you listening?

The truth is

We are all scared.

Or else “who’s God?”

Nobody would have cared.

The fate for us is cut and dried.

It’s not going to change,

No matter how much we try.

I’ll try to see things upside down again,

But I am quite sure the world will still seem the same.

                                                                                           —Anant Gyan Singh

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Whom am I?

I lay down in my bed,
Tossing and turning adjusting myself in life’s twilight!
A series of moments flash in front of my eyes.
Like a sinking boat on a cyclone’s tide!
What all I did and what all I got?
What all I lost and what all I forgot?
Millions of question flock around,
Like a lost rain cloud craving to pour down!
Whom am I the question rises?
A doll of imperfections or a mountain of flaws.
I am made answerable for every scar I carry.
I am interrogated for every stain in my personal diary.
 
 
i stand in front of the mirror,
trying to recognise the stranger in it!
“you are a paradox!”, it screams on my face.
my eyes go quiet and body turns stoned!
living a life of flaws and imperfections,
but still they say, i am doing right.
 
i try to be a part of crowd,
only to be thrown out,
who am I? the question rises.
A stranger to myself, a question for the soul, 
I wander, I roam, on unknown lands, 
And into unknown worlds, 
Only to know, I am a bird, caged in a golden prison.
I try to flap my wings, 
And try to fly away, 
But I am held by a cage. 
I see the beautiful world, the colors it holds,
Just like a rainbow after  the first rain, 
Just like the golden Sun kissing the horizon, 
I try to reach there, to touch the sun, 
To touch the horizon! 
But what I discover is that they too are mere illusions, 
The horizon keeps shifting and the rainbow disappears! 
Only to make me realise that nothing is real. 
 
I submit myself to the golden cage, 
Taking it as my fate, 
Who am I? The question rises. 
But this time, I refuse to answer it! 
-Udisha M.

* © MagMug 2016 . Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from the author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to the Author and www.magmug.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content *

Confession of a writer


“What do you want to become in life?”, somebody asked me.
“May be a writer!”, I replied
“What? A love-story writer! Isn’t it?”, the person again fired a question at me! He had gone through my blog and was quiet convinced that I have no-brains, hence love writing love stories! [are love story writers brainless? o.O I didn’t knew that!]

“NO! I would like to a be comics writer, or may publish a graphic novel some day!”, I replied.
“Graphic what?”, That person made a face as if I have cracked a ridiculously pathetic joke!

“Kindly google ‘graphic novels’! You may get what I am trying to say!”, I replied with a poker face. This was not the first time someone had looked down upon me, because I write love stories that too when I am ‘seriously grammatically challenged!’ [and I gracefully accept that, yes I am!]

*after consulting google for graphic novels*

“Ha..ha..ha..ha.. What a crap! Only you can think of doing such stupidity!”, he laughed.
“Yeah, I know I am super stupid! But still, can I ask you for a favor?”, I asked him looking straight at his face.
“Say!”, he replied with a smirk.
“Can you help me in drawing a picture presentation for my little cousin! Its an emergency, or else I wouldn’t have asked you for it!”, I asked him.
“Sure! What all I have to draw?”
“You just need to convey the tale of thirsty crow via pictures!”
“Oh that’s an age old story, who doesn’t knows about it!”
“Yeah, that’s why it will be very easy, go ahead! No words, only pictures!”, I said, and gave him the pencil and paper.

I saw him struggling with the images in his mind, he would draw random things on paper and then rubbed them! I saw him scratching his head, looking here and there for inspiration, but nothing was working.

*after an hour*

“So, are you done with the story?”, I asked him.
“NO!”, he replied giving a ‘god-I-am-fed-up-of-this-work!’ expression.
“You said, that conveying a story through pictures is so easy that it falls in category of stupidity! Now, you only failed in it! Now which category should you fall in?”, I asked him with a stern look.

He went quiet, embarrassment was all he had on his face.

“If you don’t know about something, kindly don’t hold an opinion about it driven by your pseudo intellectuality!”

-Udisha M.

 * © MagMug 2016 . Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from the author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to the Author and www.magmug.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content *